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Mother Come to the Window



A new poem by Portsmouth laureate John Perrault composed for the poet's mother as she approached a century on this earth. (Read poem below)  





Mother, Come to the Window 
   --for Dorothy, 1906-2005  

The hemlock’s donned a surplice
For the solstice, 

The spruce bows
Beneath a heavy cowl— 

Snow absolves our yard
For all its trespasses,
For all its fallen branches 
And wayward leaves
Left by the latest storm. 

In the bitter cold
Stars play upon the glass
Like the candle on your glasses;
You warm them with your breath— 
One by one, they disappear. 

Your eyes were never old. 

And nothing stirs tonight—
All the little creatures
You fed throughout the fall
Sleep snug inside their cells. 

The world is deeper than we’ll ever know—
And still. 

Even the wooden shepherds
You set out on the sill
Have fallen silent,
As if expecting something— 

As if keeping hopeful watch,
Waiting for a sign.   

--John Perrault   

(c) 2010 by John PErrault. All rights reserved.

John Perrault’s most recent book is Jefferson’s Dream.  He was Portsmouth Poet Laureate 2003-2005. He is also renowned as a folksinger, teacher, balladeer, and attorney. Visit his Web site here.


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